Try
by Sharpfur
Summary: A Redwall Abbey courtroom drama: Elysive, a squirrelmaid, conducts a trial to find the real killer of Sister Parslow and prove the innocence of a beast banished from the Abbey.


"This is very unprecedented."

"Yes, Father Abbot, it is. But I think it is necessary to prove that Sister Parslow actually did trip and fall on her gardening sheers."

"In other words... you wish to prove Twitchear's innocence."

"Hector, please. His name's Hector. And yes, that is... an agreeable result of my findings. Will you grant my request?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, after tea. I shall inform everybeast during breakfast tomorrow."

"Thank you, Father."

"Ely..."

"Yes?"

"It's... it's nothing. You're welcome."

* * *

Sister Elysive was up with the sun the next morning, although it was the smell of blueberry tarts that had actually caused her awakening. She slipped into her habit, brushed her bushy tail and washed her paws before heading downstairs.

Abbot Gregory was all ready up. Elysive wondered if the old mouse ever slept, or if he was afraid to. They said he was so old, he'd been around when the sun was born, but... of course nobeast really _believed_ the old legends. Whenever he was asked, he'd only smile, shake his head, and say, "Why would they have reason to lie?"

Everybeast agreed this was rather enigmatic.

She nodded at him as she set down to wait for the cooks to bring out the food, and he nodded back.

Brother Gibbert, the Gatekeeper, joined her shortly, his fur ruffled and his eyes red.

"Stayed up all night, looking through the scrolls," he said by way of greeting. "Don't think it's ever been done before. The Abbot usually decides something, or the Badgermum, and the Abbey Elders rarely speak out against his decision. And that's that. So I don't know how much trouble you're going to be in for this..."

Elysive smiled, patted the vole's paw. "Thank you. You've been a great help."

"I don't... I don't know, Ely. Everybeast _knows_. They just don't say anything. I think they might try to..."

"Try to what? There's nothing more than can do to me. Either way, I'll win."

"If you say so. Ooh, waffles."

* * *

Abbot Gregory made his speech as soon as breakfast was properly underway. Although he asked them kindly to keep eating as he talked, with the exception of the dibbuns, all eating stopped. It was hard to chew when your jaw had hit the floor so hard the accumulative snaps woke the Lord of Salamandastron from one of his dream states.

Birds cascaded into the sky.

"...that is all."

He sat down, his bones creaking audibly in the stunned silence. Sister Elysive held back a flinch as the first Abbeybeast turned back to their meals. Perhaps mealtime wasn't the best moment to announce it, she thought, eying the forks and knives spread across the tables.

The oceanroar of voices rose once more, louder than before. But nobeast talked about what had just happened. Their voices strained, they asked each-other their opinion on the weather, the crops, little Sandnose's candied chestnut addiction; anything else.

The mouse across from Elysive could be heard to say: "Does anybeast remember that sack race from the Winter of the Rosy Apple? That was some race, huh?"

She finished quickly and returned to the infirmary to prepare, Gibbert following her after deciding to enjoy his tart to its fullest potential.

* * *

"Wipe your whiskers, please."

Gibbert did so without comment, and was rather surprised to find blue smears on the towel afterwards.

"I just don't understand it," he said. "Not even young Sandnose gets things on his whiskers anymore."

"You eat like you read," Elysive chuckled. "Do you need special eating glasses? If you weren't reminded to wash after every meal, we could plot the Abbey's menus back two weeks' time just from looking at your face!"

"I don't need glasses," Gibbert huffed, settling into a chair.

"Of course not. You _smell_ the words, that's what you do... Oh, don't be so sour. I'm sorry. It's just funny, that's all."

"Well... so long as somebeast is amused, I suppose I can get over it. What's your plan now?"

"My plan is to feel better about myself now that you're under the assumption I have one."

Elysive paused.

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Um. I brought you a tart."

"... thank you, Gibbert. I suppose we'll just see how it goes. Can you put this in your pocket for me?"

* * *

The turnout was the entire population of Redwall Abbey, in fact.

Tables had been set out in the Great Hall, and a makeshift stage had been constructed between meals for the Abbot to sit, where he, and anybeast else who was called up to speak, could be seen and heard better.

Elysive passed him a bit of parchment, from which he read:

"I now call into session the trial of Hector 'Twitchear', who, until the trial is over, is hereby pardoned of his title as... the murderer of Sister Parslow via gardening sheers. I am, for the duration of the trial, Judge Gregory, and all of you in attendance are of the Decision Committee. Please do not make a decision until the end of the trial. If at any time one of you would like to argue the case being made by Sister Elysive, they may step up and request to be made a Speaker. Skipper of Otters will serve as... what's this word? Ah... Bailiff. Sister Elysive will now take the stand."

"Thank you, Fa - Judge. My fellow Abbeybeasts, let me first apologise for bringing up the uncomfortable idea of Sister Parslow's death. Many of you were close to her; if you wish to leave, to put your mind to better things, please do. I only wish to dispel grief today."

A few beasts shuffled awkwardly in their chairs, but none stood to leave. She continued:

"Hector was a kind and loving beast, as I will prove to you. I believe very firmly that he was not responsible for Sister Parslow's death. As his Speaker, I would first like to prove that he _would_ not kill her before I prove that he _could_ not have killed her. I call forth young Sandnose."

Sandnose, a young mouse just barely out of dibbunhood, was pushed forwards.

"Come sit up here, my child," Gregory said kindly, indicating the chair to his left. Sandnose sat, trembling.

Elysive passed something to Skipper, who read aloud:

"Sandnose, do yeh aim, to the best o' yore rudder, t'tell the truth as yeh see it runs, and d'yeh swear by yore mum's hotroot soup not t'tell a whopper to anybeast on or off the stand, so drown yore boat?"

Elysive coughed into her paw. Perhaps she shouldn't have added the bit about adding little embellishments here and there...

"Um..." Sandnose blinked. To a young beast, this was a rather difficult proposition. What if they asked about the candied chestnuts? He would have to tell the truth, and then he'd get _such_ a tanning... "Yes, Skip. If I have a boat."

Sister Elysive smiled gently at him, leaned on the table set up in front of the Judge and Witness stand.

"Sandnose, can you tell everybeast why Hector was your friend?"

"Um... he played games with me when I asked? Um. He never tol' me to wait... An' he tuckered me in an' read me a story when I had the floooo. An' he snuckered me candied chestnuts after dinners, an' when it rained when I wos camping in the orcherd, he came an' fixed my tent wot wos leakin', which wos how I _gots_ the floooo..."

"That should be enough, thank you, Sandnose. Now, can you tell us anything that would make you not like Hector?"

The young mouse scrunched his face up as more and more brian cells came into play.

"He killed Sister Parslow."

"And if he hadn't killed her?"

"Then Hector's my bestest friend!"

Raising her voice so it could be heard over the collective "aww", Sister Elysive dismissed Sandnose from the stand.

* * *

"So, Friar Folkal, can you give us your account of the events, the afternoon of Sister Parslow's death?"

"I can, Sister."

Elysive waited patiently, nodded for him to go on. Then she remembered her youth, back before he had become the Friar, and grinned.

"_Will_ you, Friar Folkal, tell us what happened that afternoon? You may."

Cheeky couldn't begin to describe his wink to her.

"I will, if I may. As I recall, after tea that day, I spent a while cleaning the kitchens and dishes for dinner. As I do every day, I took the scraps outside to see if Sister Parslow could use them in her compost pile. When I came around to her garden, I saw her lying on the ground. Twitchear was bent over her, and as I watched, he took hold of... of the sheers, and pulled them... out of her."

"It's all right, Friar..."

"Thank you, ah..." He blew his nose with the kerchief Elysive had given him. "Her forsythia were doing so well, too..."

"They were. Friar, did you actually see Hector _put_ the sheers into Sister Parslow's body?"

"Um, um... no, Sister, I did not. I must say, that I came to the conclusion quite quickly that he had done so before I happened upon them. I, uh, I must admit, it had never occurred to me that it had been an accident, although it now comes as a surprise that I hadn't thought about it before. Hector was always so helpful around the kitchen..."

"Thank you, Friar. You may step down. Before I call my next witness, is there anybeast who would like to take this opportunity to speak?"

A paw in the crowd rose hesitantly, followed by the spiked head of Lyle, the cellarhog.

"Twitchear wos a great friend o' mine, too. But wot I don't un'erstand is, wot reason would he have t'kill Sister Parslow in th'first place? He'd never done her no harm before, and neither had she."

Elysive pursed her lips.

"I can't think of any reason, either, Lyle. Can anybeast?"

It took a few minutes of mumbling before somebeast spoke up:

"When he first came to our Abbey, Sister Parslow had told him to chew with his mouth closed. But that's all I can think of."

"Hardly reason to murder somebeast, is it?" Elysive said. "Why, Father Gregory tells me every other day to chew with my mouth closed!"

She smiled as the Abbeybeasts broke into one large chuckle.

"I would like to call as my next witness, Brother Darmin."

"Darmin, will yeh try, t'the best o' yore ability, t'tell the truth as yeh see it runs, and d'yeh swear by yore mum's most delightful blackberry salad not t'tell fibs to anybeast on or off the stand, so drown yore boat, if indeed yeh had one?"

"I, er, think so, Skip. Yes. I do."

Brother Darmin was a younger squirrel than Elysive by a few seasons, going through that curious stage of life where one is no longer treated by his elders as a miscreant and an absentminded youth, but rather looked to and respected as a master of his field - that of bee-keeping. Elysive had always considered him handsome, and he had always considered her beautiful; the flutter of eyelashes as they passed in the halls often had those nearby diving for cover, fearing some avian menace was stalking them.

But not for a few weeks now.

"Darmin, you were the second to arrive at the scene, that afternoon. Can you - will you tell us what you saw?"

Darmin fidgeted for a few moments, then at last drew a breath and nodded.

"It was just after tea, of course. I had gone to my hives to do standard maintenance, collect some honey... I noticed some of my bees weren't producing as much as they should be, so I went to ask Sister Parslow if she had been keeping track of which of her flowers were being pollinated. When I found her, Friar Folkal was holding her in his lap, shouting at Hector. Hector's paws were covered in blood, and he was holding the sheers. I thought he was going to attack Friar Folkal, so I tackled him, pulled the sheers out of his paws... and then you came around, Sister. You looked very flustered."

"I suppose we were all flustered, Darmin."

"Your habit was on backwards."

Elysive smiled vaguely. "I had a lot on my mind that morning. I'd stayed up all night with Ms. Grullow. I just want to make sure: You did not see Hector actually stab Sister Parslow?"

"No, Sister. But, as I recall, Friar Folkal had been shouting, 'Murderer! You killed her!' and Hector, he... he didn't put up a fight when I grabbed him. He just kept nodding, saying, 'Yes, yes, I did.' Sister, it was most peculiar."

"What was most peculiar?"

"The way he said 'I' - it had a certain intonation to it, like... it was a bit like he was proud of the fact? Like he wanted to make sure that everybeast _knew_ it was him. It scared me, Sister, it honestly did. I can't believe his innocence after hearing that."

"... thank you, Brother Darmin. You can stand down now."

"You're welcome, Sister Elysive."

His eyes fluttered; hers did not. They were hard, cold, and didn't meet his.

* * *

Gregory kept mostly silent throughout these proceedings, only adding to the discussion to thank beasts and offer a calming word. He was tired, more than he had ever been in his life - and such a strange, long life it had been. Back then, mysteries had been simple. Beasts had not. But now everything was calm and peaceful; simplicity had returned. Only now, Elysive was turning it all on its head. She had to be so _difficult_.

But she was right. There were too many questions unanswered, too many things that didn't add up. But the more she tried to add them up, the more, it seemed to him, she was not liking the number she was getting.

There was a saying he'd heard long ago: Two plus two equals four - except when it equals three plus one.

He would have to intervene soon...

"Sister Algile, I know this is hard for you," Elysive said, her voice smooth and yet commanding, her paw on the old mousewive's shoulder. "But you liked Hector as well as any of us. Do you honestly believe he could have done it? Let's imagine the poor beast must have been in shock at the time. Is it possible, then, that Sister Parslow could have tripped and fallen on her own sheers?"

"I... I... yes, it's... very possible, she... oh, she was so clumsy at times, and in our old age... Why, just the other evening, we were taking our dinner on the north wall, and after, she had nearly missed the top stair - if I hadn't have caught hold of her sleeve, I'm sure she would have fallen down!"

Elysive smiled and patted her paw. "You gave us a few more days with her, Sister - thank you!"

The abbeybeasts cheered congratulations to Algile, and had to be called silent by the Judge-Abbot.

"But when she was on level ground, were there any times Sister Parslow somehow tripped on her own paws, or her tail, or managed to lose her balance?"

"Oh, no, never! She was very sure-footed. Just a little hard-of-sight, sometimes dropped things..."

The old mousewive's words came slow and forced, after quite a lot of thought. It was clear her memories of her dearest friend were bringing her both pain and pleasant nostalgia, for she smiled brightly through her tears and trembling paws.

"How about on uneven ground? In a garden, the ground is always lumpy, freshly dug up, or just patted down - there could have been a little hole she didn't see, or even a larger one. Could I ask that Foremole Lorf investigate the area where Sister Parslow was found?"

"Oi'll get roight on et, marm!"

"Thank you, Foremole. Oh, oh dear... Sister? It'll be okay, Sister, please, don't cry..."

"It's just... it's just... Parslow never liked Twitchear, it's true! I didn't want to say it before, but she once told me - 'ic! - that it was the way he looked at her, and, and the way he never smiled when he talked to her, she was always so worried that he'd try, try - 'ic! - try something with one of the dibbuns, or when he helped Friar Folkal wash the dishes - all those knives! After the way he was when we'd found him in the woods, what he'd been though - you just c-can't - 'ic! - tell! Even that hare we'd found! And just he and the Friar alone, everybeast else gone to bed and..."

"I think," Gregory interrupted, "it is time to break for lunch."

Elysive caught his look, and stepped away from Sister Algile, head bowed in what she hoped was shameful deference. She waited until everybeast had gone down to Cavern Hole to eat before wiping her eyes.

* * *

"Are you all right, Ely? I brought you a... well, another flan. Sorry - it's just breakfast leftovers and whatever Folkal can whip up in a few minutes, and all the waffles are gone."

"Thank you, Gibbert. I was just, ah... just doing some reading."

Ely waved a paw at the desktop beside her. Gibbert slid her plate onto it and gave her shoulders a quick massage.

"Never thought you as such a slow reader," he said with a chuckle.

"Mm?"

"Your book - have you gotten past the cover yet?"

"Oh..." Ely stared at the book, which she had not even touched. She continued to stare at it long after Gibbert had found himself a comfortable cot to settle into. Elysive kept the infirmary very well cared for - some said all it took to relieve one of any pain was simply to take a nap in one of her cots. It was like getting a seasonful of perfect sleep in a few hours.

Gibbert did not lie down for very long, though. He quickly got up and stood near his friend.

"No witty reply? Ely... I'm sorry. You didn't know, did you?"

"Know what?"

"What he said. What Hector said to Darmin and Folkal."

"No... No, I didn't. It's all a bit foolish after that, isn't it? Trying to prove him innocent."

"Sometimes all you can do is try, even when you know it's going to fail..."

"But I know Hector didn't kill her! I _know_ he didn't!"

Elysive struck the desk so hard that the plate bounced off and clattered to the floor, squishing her tart. Gibbert stepped back, but quickly returned to his position, paw on her shoulder.

"How do you know, Ely?"

"I just... know."

"It's not a gut feeling, is it? Because sometimes when you have certain feelings for a beast, well, sometimes those feelings can get in the way of - "

"I know, Gibbert. I know he didn't do it, and it's not because of any feeling I have. I've seen... I have..." She choked on a sob, willed her tears to roll up her cheeks and slide back behind her eyes; they didn't. "I have information that nobeast else is aware of."

"Ely... why don't you just tell everybeast what you know, then, if it will help clear his name? That's what you want, isn't it? You want everybeast to know the truth. If you have the truth, you should tell it. You told me that, when we were dibbuns. Always tell the truth."

She closed her eyes until her breathing let her shoulders lie still.

"Thank you, Gibbert, but I think this is a little more complex than about who had been nicking sweets from the Abbot's desk drawer."

"No, it isn't. The truth is the truth - it's never more complex than that, Ely."

Ely leaned over and scraped the tart off the floor, back onto the plate. She nibbled at bits of it as Gibbert gave her another short massage, then stood up.

"I suppose it is. Thank you. I had thought it might come to this... Do you still have the parchment I gave you?"

"In my pocket. Do you want it back?"

"No, keep it. You'll need it. Let's go. They're probably starting the trial up again."

"Right..."

After a minute or two, Gibbert stepped back into the infirmary.

"Ely?"

She blinked.

"Oh?"

"The trial?"

"Oh... right."

"What were you doing?"

"Just... looking at things. Pillows and windows, my books..."

"If it's too much, we can ask to put it off until tomorrow. I can't imagine the stress you must be going through with this."

"No, I'm fine. Let's go - hah, let's race! C'mon, one last time!"

"Elyyyy! Slow down! My legs don't know how to be as long as yours! You have to slow down! _Those are the rules!_"

* * *

"All rise for the honourable Ab - Judge Gregory!" Skipper called through cupped paws. The babbling ceased.

Gregory eased himself into his chair and waved a paw for everybeast else to sit.

"It seems as though Speaker Elysive is not currently with us," he said. "So I would like to take the moment to remind you: She is our friend, not our enemy. She is not at fault here! None of us are, and hopefully, when this is all over, our friend Hector can come back to live with us. The talk I heard at tea _will not be tolerated_ in this abbey, ever. Is everybeast understood?"

There were mumbles of "yes, Father" and similar-worded apologies.

At that moment, Elysive reached the bottom of the stairs and paused.

"Oop - sorry!" She bowed her head with everybeast else, began reciting:

_"We thank the sun and the earth  
For this food we've just eaten,  
And our stomachs - "_

"Er, Ely." Gibbert tugged her sleeve. "We'd all ready said our thanks for tea."

"Oh, er..."

Blushing furiously, Ely tip-pawed around the tables to the stand.

Gregory's mouth was hidden by his sleeves, but his eyes sparkled.

"Care to continue, Speaker Elysive?"

"Yes, thank you, Judge Gregory. Aheh... 'hem! Let me see. Oh, yes - there's something - "

"Ah, pardon me, but Foremole wanted to share his findings with you before you continued? Foremole?"

Foremole came up, scratching absently at his head. Skipper took him through the vows of stand, and he shuffled towards the chair at Gregory's side.

"Oi finished h'invarsti - urm... Oi looked at ee place whurr Sister Parslow died, miz Ely."

"Oh, thank you, Foremole! Could you share your findings? There was a hole in the ground, right?"

"Urm... no, miz. 'Ee ground wurr level an' firm, gurtly so, Oi'm h'afraid."

Ely's lip trembled. How horrid! All those hopes and happy thoughts that had nearly broken a hole in the roof, they'd risen so fast... If they had been tangible things, the Abbey would have had a new cellar and a very straightforward path to get there, although it would have been a bit of a falling hazard.

"Oh, well..."

"Oi did notice sumthin' else puzzlin', though, hurr, aye."

"Yes?" Flutter, flutter, almost beneath her footpaws now.

"Sister Parslow's sheers cuttened into 'ur frontside-loik, roight?"

"That's right."

"But 'ee lump on 'ur 'ead from when she'm fallen on 'ee rock - et whurr on 'ee _bark_-side o' 'ur 'ead, miz."

Flutter, flail, fall. Would make a good indoor well...

_She could have rolled over,_ Ely's mouth started to say, but her mind stopped it. She couldn't have rolled over. She wouldn't have. If she'd hit the rock first, onto her sheers? No, that didn't make sense. Off her sheers, onto the rock? No... Because she hadn't rolled.

"Thank you, Foremole. You may... step down. Thank you... As I was about to say... I am sorry to hear that my evidence thus far has been found faulty, one way or another." Her paws were shaking. "I have just one more witness to call forth before you make your decision, with just one more piece of evidence."

Elysive's eyes were red around the edges. She blinked hard, took in a shivering breath, and looked a while at the Abbeybeasts waiting patiently below.

"Do go on, Sister," Gregory said kindly.

"Right... sorry. I call forth... Sister Elysive. My Speaker will be Brother Gibbert."

She turned and sat herself in the witness's chair. Skipper regarded her solemnly.

"I'm not goin' to ask if yeh'll tell the truth," he said to her, "because I know yeh will, Sister."

"Please... can you please just do it, Skip?"

He bit his lip, then nodded after a few seconds.

"Sister Elysive, d'yeh intend, t'the best o' yore abilities, t'tell the truth as yeh perceive it, and d'yeh promise not t'lie to anybeast on or off the stand?"

"I do." Exactly as she had written it this time. Things were really starting to get troubled when _Skipper_ took things seriously.

"Brother Gibbert?"

"Um..." Gibbert stepped up to the platform. He glanced at Elysive, who patted the pocket of her habit and nodded at his own. "Thank you, Skipper, Sister, for the honour..."

He took the scroll from his pocket, pressed his nose against it. After a while, he withdrew. He looked slightly confused, but swallowed his nervousness and began:

"Sister Elysive, can you give us your account of the events, the day of Sister Parslow's death?"

"I can. I had gone to sleep about an hour before breakfast, having stayed up with Ms. Grullow and her fever. Upon awakening I did, as Brother Darmin remembers, put my habit on backwards. After breakfast, I went to see Lyle about some drinks for a picnic later, then returned to the infirmary to make sure Ms. Grullow was doing well. As you may recall, there was the incident with the candied chestnuts and little Sandnose... I never did get a chance to change before tea. And after tea, I went to the kitchens and gathered a haversack of dishes and food, for the picnic Hector and I had planned. Lyle had left the drinks for us in the Great Hall - just on that table there - and I then took Hector to the garden to show him the flowers."

Gibbert scanned the next item on the list with his nose.

"Did you see Sister Parslow in the garden?"

"I did."

"And... did you see Hector stab Sister Parslow with the sheers?"

"I did not, no."

Gibbert cleared his throat, looked nervously at the last two blurry lines on the scroll before him.

"Then did you see Sister Parslow trip and fall on her sheers?"

Elysive closed her eyes. She wasn't shaking anymore. She felt... lighter than ever.

"I did not. I saw her fall on her sheers... but she did not trip."

"That is all," Gibbert finished, confused, but somewhat relieved.

"No, it isn't," Elysive said quickly. "I'm sorry, Gibbert. You didn't let me finish. Sister Parslow... she fell because she had been knocked in the head with the haversack. Please, no! Let me finish! Hector didn't do it. I... I did. I hit Sister Parslow with the haversack. The bump on her head was not from the rock she was found on. I asked Hector to place it under her while I... while I hid the broken plate."

The entire Abbey was silent.

"I'm... I'm so sorry..."

"Why?" Gregory said quietly.

Elysive looked up at him, her face wet now.

"She had seen us. She was going to go tell you... I'm sorry, I never meant for her to die! I wasn't thinking! I just couldn't let her..."

Skipper moved to approach her, but Gregory held up a paw.

"No! Stay seated, please. Come to me, my child. Come, come..."

Elysive ran to him, hugged him tightly. He hugged her back.

"I'm so sorry, Father..."

"I know. I know. I forgive you, Ely," he whispered in her ear.

She pulled back. "Why? How can you?"

"Sh... I don't know. Just rest for now. Please remain seated," he called so everybeast could hear. Then quietly again: "Do you wish to go through with this? I can put a stop to it. I can decide..."

"No." Ely let her face dry in the folds of his hood, then stepped back.

"I accept my fate as decided by the Decision Committee of Redwall Abbey," she declared. "Whatever it may be."

* * *

Funny how they turn, she thought.

There were just the four of them: Her, Father Gregory, Gatekeeper Gibbert, and Skipper. Dinner was long since over; she had dined alone in the infirmary.

"So Skipper will escort you two days' time from Redwall," Gregory explained. "Whichever direction you wish to take. He will ensure your safety during this time. Normally, the punishment is permanent banishment, but... Elysive, you will always be welcome at Redwall."

"No, I won't." She smiled bitterly.

"There will always be one beast - always one - who will welcome you. I promise you that. Whether it is I alone, or a babe who knows nothing of what has happened... always one. Your crime was one of passion, of love. Nobeast can fault you for your actions in the circumstances."

"And yet they do."

"Oh, Ely." He hugged her again. "I always knew. I never cared. No. No, I did care. I cared for you, and for Hector as well. I loved you both. I _love_ you both. Maybe not as much as you love each-other, but as much as a father should love his children, no matter what. I thank you for being my daughter."

He let her go, kissed her forehead - she had to bend down - and then waved one last time and returned to the main building to prepare for bed.

Skipper unbarred the gate, slung two haversacks over his shoulder, and silently trudged a few steps out into the night, where he stopped and waited.

Elysive turned to Gibbert.

"You hate me, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"No!" But his eyes didn't say the same thing. He was scared and angry, and his once friendly, flustered face was now carefully blank. How they turn. All it ever takes is one small moment, one mistake...

"Gibbert..." She sighed, hugged him despite his stiff arms not returning it, and began heading through the gate.

"Wait."

She turned.

"Why, Ely? You could have - you didn't have to tell. You shouldn't have."

"He was innocent. I had to prove that."

"You could have lied about it. We would have believed you."

"No, Gibbert. You tell the truth, whether you're on stand or not. Always. Never lie. That's what vermin do. That's the difference between us. It's really... the only difference, I think. Anyway, I won, didn't I? I got what I wanted. I just had to try, first..."

Gibbert stared at her for a while too long, then wordlessly began to close the gate.

"Always try, Gibbert. Always tell the truth. Goodbye, Gibbert."

He shut the gate, drew the bar across again. He plodded thoughtfully to the gatehouse, shrugged off his habit, blew out the lantern, lie down in his bed, and wondered why he hadn't been able to say goodbye to his friend. He'd tried. But he couldn't.

"But you always have to," he echoed to the empty gatehouse.

* * *

"But he lied for _yeh_."

"That's what makes him a vermin, Skip. That's why I love him."


End file.
